


Dinnertime Conversations

by Ladderofyears



Series: Insatiable [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Feels, Belly Kink, Chubby Draco Malfoy, Comfort Food, Feeder Harry Potter, Feeding, Hand Feeding, Happy Ending, M/M, Objectification, True Love, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 15:04:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17983382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: Harry has prepared a delicious feast for Draco but when his husband returns from work, Harry finds him much more subdued that normal. Their dinner conversation exposes insecurities on Draco's part, so Harry offers comfort.** This story features Harry Potter's objectification and desire for his larger husband, so if this isn't your kind of thing, no worries **





	Dinnertime Conversations

Harry hummed along to the wireless as he busied himself in the kitchen. 

Wanting to make sure he had all the ingredients to create a Spaghetti Bolognese that he knew Draco would love, he gathered together the olive oil, onions and the minced beef and placed them on the counter. Next, Harry collected the tomatoes, chilli and fresh basil that he’d need for the sauce. 

He’d already baked some crusty bread to sit alongside their dinner, and picked a bottle of wine out of their cellar. As it was one from the Malfoy vineyard in France, Draco was sure to approve of his choice. 

Deciding to treat himself, Harry poured himself a glass and set the rest of the bottle aside to breathe. He chopped the rosemary and the garlic cloves, setting them on a low heat to soften, and added the beef several minutes later. The kitchen was the one place in their home where Harry reigned supreme, and he felt completely at ease, lost in the task of creating a dish that would satisfy his husband’s high standards. Adding the tomatoes, oregano and chilli, Harry focussed on bringing the Bolognese to boil, and with a tap of his wand, set the dish to simmer. 

He’d make the Spaghetti once Draco returned home, which, he hoped, shouldn’t be too much longer. 

Taking his wine through to their living room, Harry half-heartedly leafed through a Quidditch magazine. He had spent the day missing Draco terribly, and despite achieving more than he’d hoped working from home, he hadn’t been sad to _Reducio_ his files and pack them back into his briefcase an hour previously. 

It had felt disconcerting to be alone in the home they’d shared for coming up to three years now. Harry had missed the physicality of Draco, how he seemed to filled the space with his music, his books and his body. Without him their home seemed flat and empty, even though his husband spent much of his time working downstairs in their well-stocked Potions laboratory, checking and re-checking new Ministry approved brewing techniques and ingredients. 

Often, Harry would sit and just watch Draco at work. 

The heat and steam of the laboratory would flush his face red, and cause his perfect hair to kink around the side of his face. He would see the dimple formed in Draco’s ample cheeks when he was pleased with an outcome, and the way his endearingly soft, wide chin would wobble when he frowned, carefully measuring out a quantity of Wolfsbane, or perhaps Valerian Root. 

Thinking of how hard Draco always worked had reminded him of just how hungry he’d be when he returned from work. 

A habitual early riser, Draco had left that morning just after dawn; determined to conquer the rising tide of cases overwhelming his department. Harry knew he’d been due to meet Pansy for lunch, but Draco often grumbled her favourite restaurant provided only meagre portions. Harry realised his husband would be famished, so set to work on the Spaghetti Bolognese, a dinner which Draco never failed to enjoy a second- or even a third- helping of. 

*

Harry filled Draco’s bowl full with Spaghetti, and spooned on a generous portion of the rich, meaty sauce, and a sprinkling of parmesan. 

Draco had flooed into their living room in a quiet, subdued mood. Harry hadn’t pushed though, knowing that Draco had a difficult, responsible job and that his days could be long and arduous. He’d simply handed his husband a large glass of wine, and told him to relax. He was confident that Draco would tell him what was bothering him in his own time. 

But the Spaghetti Bolognese hadn’t been quite the success Harry had imagined. 

Draco had picked at his meal, moving it around the plate listlessly. He’d not tried any of the bread Harry had baked, and his glass remained half full. Finally, Draco had sighed, pushing his knife and fork into the pasta and pushing the plate forward. 

“Right then, Draco. What’s happened?” Harry asked, concerned. Normally Draco would have spilled all the gossip of the day as soon as he walked in, chatting about his colleague’s live and the incompetence of their shared bosses. 

Draco was easy to please, and once they had eaten, both men would usually waste their evening lounging on the settee, close and intimate while Draco read, and Harry found something to watch on the television. But tonight, his husband was reserved and quiet, and not the cheerful, easy company that he was used to. 

“Nothing, love… I’m fine, honestly” Draco began, his eyes anywhere except on his husband. He fiddled with his glass, taking a couple of sips of the wine, and then placing it carefully down beside his plate.

“I’ve had a good day… Got everything done that I wanted to at work and met Pansy for lunch. She looked great… Absolutely effervescent. We looked at some pictures and did some wedding planning. She’s getting married in July, you know...”

Harry certainly did know. Their invitation was fixed to their fridge with a Permanent Sticking Spell; Pansy and her fiancé, Michael waving cheerily from the frame. Draco and he had already spent _days_ on this wedding, as his husband was serving as Pansy’s Best Man. They’d both been fitted for beautiful midnight blue suits and had settled on the purchase of a goblin-made mirror for a gift. Draco had wanted nothing less for his oldest, and very best, friend. 

“That doesn’t explain why you’re so upset now, though,” said Harry in a mild voice. “Or tell me why you can’t look me in the eye.”

“Pansy...” Draco began, hesitantly. “Pansy wants me to send her some of our wedding photos to copy. She wants to celebrate all the different couples that are attending her wedding, wants to make some sort of display…” Draco’s voice tailed off, and he exhaled, leaning back into his chair. “Wants to put us right in the centre.”

“You looked radiant on our wedding day. Beautiful. So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is, I don’t quite look the same now Harry!” Draco tried to stare at his husband, but then he sighed. He dropped his eyes to his cushiony, generous belly, where it spilled out and filled his lap. Draco picked it up by the sides, and considered its weight for a moment before dropping it to a jiggle. 

“And other people there won’t understand what we have, love. Won’t understand how happy you make me. They won’t understand the life we’ve built together… When I young, I held people like us in such contempt. People seized who happiness for themselves and wore it proudly. And I certainly wear my happiness, all around my middle.” Draco placed a hand on the bulge of his tummy, giving it a contemplative stoke. 

“But why do you care, Draco,?” asked Harry, moving round to sit next to his husband. “If other people don’t understand what we have, or sneer, then what does that matter? All the people at that wedding that we care about _know_ how much we love each other... Were you the least bit unhappy when you left for work this morning?” He ran a hand down Draco’s side, enjoying the tactile, touchable curve under his fingertips. 

“Harry, you know how happy I am. How happy our life makes me… Everything in our life that we have together. You know that nobody else sees me like you do, loves me like you do. This is what I want more than anything else in my life.”

At Draco’s words Harry placed his other hand on his husbands belly. 

Splaying his hands around the round sides of his abdomen, Harry was enraptured once again by how sensual and tangible his lovers body really was. And with every day that passed, and every pound that Draco gained, things between them just got better and better. 

“And you must know how luminous I find you, how sexy… How much I love every single part of you.” 

With each of his words Harry gave his husbands tummy a gentle squeeze. He picked up Draco’s fork a twirled a portion of the Spaghetti onto it tightly. Focussing his wandless magic, the pasta heated immediately, and was once more mouth-watering. “Don’t waste your time worrying about other people. What we have is already perfect... Focus on yourself, and what makes _you_ happy.” 

Laughing, Harry teased Draco with the mouthful, holding it tantalisingly close to his lover’s mouth.

“What would make you happiest now, love?” Harry whispered. He loved seeing Draco like this, loved the open, sensual need that transformed his husband face as when anticipated being fed. 

“I want to have my dinner.. Want you to feed me,” Draco eagerly asked, pulling the contents off the fork with a determined bite. He chewed happily, his features relaxing blissfully, and eyes shining with happiness. 

Swallowing quickly, Draco begged for more, his mouth opening keenly for the next loaded forkful. 

“I’ll always give you more” Harry readily agreed, his heart filling with joy. “All the food, and all the love you deserve. Foods that are luxurious, opulent and sumptuous. Foods that are fit for a prince, just like you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xxx


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